


Headstrong

by Rose Wilde-Irish (rosewildeirish)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewildeirish/pseuds/Rose%20Wilde-Irish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Once Charles had done it, it frightened him, how easy it was.</i>  [UST/Pre-]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headstrong

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialog is taken directly from the movie; no infringement is intended – I only want to capture the moment accurately. Also, it’s from memory, so it might not be, ahem, exact. Spoilers for the movie. Thank you to [irony_rocks](http://irony-rocks.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

Once Charles had done it, it frightened him, how easy it was. How completely he’d gotten away with it.

He’d expected some backlash. A subconscious push; some sort of internal mutterings to fight the changes he’d wrought. But…

 _You’ve always wanted a daughter,_ he planted in his mother’s mind. _A little girl, to mold in your image…you’ve been working on the adoption for ages._

 _The only sign of surprise or rebellion his mother gave was to stop, standing so still it was almost as if he’d frozen her. "Raven, how awful of me," she’d said after scant seconds had passed. "You’ve only just gotten here and I’ve left you alone with Charles and the servants. Come, we must get you settled." And she collected Raven, bustling her off in a wave of efficiency that only _his_ mother could pull off._

Raven watched him until they left the room behind them. He could see the whites of her eyes.

* * *

He almost didn’t have to do a thing to his father. His mother did most of his work for him.

Unsurprisingly, the servants took the most work.

* * *

"Don’t ever do that to _me_ ," Raven told him, her voice tight with the thing Charles knew would be terror if she’d let it unwrap enough to define itself.

"Do what?" he asked. He didn’t watch her; he looked at the game board between them instead.

"Get in my head. _Mess_ with my head. Don’t you ever read my mind, not ever, not without asking."

He paused, taking his fingers from the game piece. After a moment, he looked up, meeting her gaze directly. "I won’t," he promised.

He’d known since they met that this conversation would come, had used what he’d gleaned of her to plan out the best way to handle it. And still he held his breath, waiting, hoping.

"You’d better not," she muttered, and settled further on her elbows over the game board.

Keeping back his smile, he picked up the game piece again. _It doesn’t count if I’m not trying. It doesn’t count if she shouts it._

* * *

"Of course, we’d always wanted a second child. When I wasn’t able to have one, we were blessed enough to find Raven."

Each time they told the story, Charles would look over, unsurprised to find Raven watching him, the blue of her mimicked eyes hooded.

* * *

They became inseparable.

He wasn’t sure how he’d managed before her. "Isn’t it lovely how well they get on?" His parents, their friends, even strangers, sometimes, would comment. But Raven was _different_ , and he was _different_ , and together it made them, in some ways, the same.

She knew his secret. She was the only one who could call him on it.

"Cheater. It’s not a _real_ A if you read the teacher’s mind to get it."

"It’s not like that, Raven – you see me at the books."

"Sure you read them, but it’s not like you study, Charles. I study. And I don’t get A’s."

"You don’t understand. Sometimes it’s like being in a room full of people who are always shouting, always drowning you in _who_ and _what_ and—"

"I don’t care, Charles. If you’re not learning it yourself, it’s still cheating." And she turned her back, shutting out anything else he’d say.

How could he explain that it _was_ like learning it himself? That he had the sure knowledge of hours spent sweating the knowledge, pouring over books and equations and details, the sleepless nights cramming, the fight to hold in the panic when defending his dissertation? That he knew it all, bone deep, because the man standing in the front of the class _pushed_ that knowledge , harder than Charles had the power to resist.

They were the same, yet even in high school, their differences were a chasm between them.

* * *

"What do you know about me?"

There it was again, that same _connection_ he’d had with Raven, all those years ago. Something more; something different, and this time, teasing about the edges, he recognized an attraction that had been there years ago as well - too young, too buried beneath refrains of _She’s your sister_ for him to give it a name.

He didn’t want to give it a name this time either, so instead he answered with the truth.

"Everything," he said.

* * *

"You should go with him," he said. "You want to." And even as it horrified him, what Erik had almost done – what he himself had done, and how close they’d come, piling justification on top of justification. He’d so blithely gone along with Erik, knowing the anger and hatred within and telling himself he could change it if he had to.

It would’ve been wrong – as wrong as holding back Raven - _Mystique_ \- would be now.

 _I will not meddle. Never again._

"I can’t feel my legs," he said, and Moira’s hand tightened in his.

 _fin_


End file.
